A blackbird – on the ground
A savage – turned around
Beneath the wings… I hide
No beings by my side
In sounds… I rest and move
No heartbeat to improve
I wish that I could feel…and I wish I could be real

„The manner in which one comes to depend upon cunning variables (medication,
hallucinogens, pecuniary interests)… leads to one’s transformation into a puppet of the ego.The manner in which one comes to choose the path of not ceasing (to consume and
acquire according to means that are against nature)… leads to one’s transformation into a monster (the confinement or even the amputation of divinity).
At the border between the Old Man (melancholiac, yet filled with refined sounds, with the charm of all the lines that gaze upon ourselves from the gazed upon pages) and the New Man (frightened, yet terribly excited by metallic sounds)…there is the Hermaphrodite Being. Therefore, all the quantum possibilities are hereby condensed into the primary
alternatives of Good and Evil. At the end of the game – of an existential cycle – there is no disgracefulness whatsoever, but transformation: either within the remains that are
soaked in cadaverine and putrescine, or the august marvel of unprecedented possibilities.